


Time on His Hands

by LadyAaronBurr



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAaronBurr/pseuds/LadyAaronBurr
Summary: A chance meeting at Richmond Hill between old friends.





	Time on His Hands

Aaron Burr pulled his watch from his pocket, single-handedly opening the case with practiced ease. Still early. No reason to rush. He could take time to enjoy a moment of respite before reporting for duty. The ever-punctual Burr closed the gold case once more. Tracing the initials etched there, he regarded the watch with a fond eye in the early morning light. A. B. The timepiece had once belonged to Burr’s father, Aaron Burr, Sr. Sadly, Burr had never known the man, as he had died before Burr had reached his second year. As did his mother. And his maternal grandparents. The watch was Burr’s only connection to a family life he had never been able to enjoy.

Replacing the watch in his pocket once more, he took a deep breath and let it out, centering himself as he glanced about him. For mid-March, he couldn’t complain about the weather, although some might consider it to be on the chill side. He preferred to call it brisk. Spring was definitely in the air. The red oaks which were the crowning glory of Richmond Hill were coming into bloom, their scarlet leaves almost ironic considering this was the current headquarters of the fledgling American army, the very antithesis of the red coats worn by their British nemesis.

Burr had been out the night before, escorting a very delightful young lady to the theater, and the pleasantness of the evening had carried over into the light of day, adding to his overall feeling of contentment. Of course, another cause for his sanguine mood might just be the knowledge that he would not be posted to this place much longer. His request to serve under General Israel Putnam had been accepted. He merely awaited the official order before joining his new commander.

To be honest, Burr would not miss his current position, although he would most likely not admit that to anyone either. Primarily because he wasn’t a man who whined or complained about things. No, he changed what he didn’t like, rather than fuss about it. A soft-spoken man, he was not one who spoke ill of others. He saw no sense in burning hiss bridges—he never knew when he might wish to cross them again. And although Burr did not necessarily see eye-to-eye with General Washington, he held no enmity toward the man either. His desire to leave the General’s service was motivated by a wish to serve in a fighting capacity rather than act as a glorified secretary.

His only regret in leaving Washington’s staff was that he would be leaving Richmond Hill as well. Shading his eyes against the rising sun, he surveyed the elegant house on the top of the hill. This would be a fine home in which to raise a family, he thought. The Army didn’t own the house. Rather, it was part of a ninety-nine year lease held by Trinity Church. At one time, Lord Amherst had used it as his headquarters during the French and Indian War. But that was when the Americans and the British were on the same side. How times had changed.

Richmond Hill was generally a hive of activity. Messengers coming in and out, soldiers seeking orders or advancement—or both. Curious citizenry who’d never seen an army up close and wanted to see for themselves what was going on. Curious ladies who wished to catch a glimpse of a man in uniform. Not even a year since everything had begun, when the first shots had been fired at Lexington and Concord. A small act of defiance which had sparked a revolution.

A feminine giggle attracted Burr’s attention. He turned to see a young red-headed soldier approach the small pond near which Burr stood. He was flanked by two young ladies, a brunette and a blonde, one on either arm. They made quite an attractive trio.

“So soon?” The brunette pouted, thrusting out a full lower lip, managing to look both adorable and naughty. “Must you leave us already? Can you not spend the day with my sister and me?”

Burr hid his smirk as he watched the soldier attempt to cajole the young lady from her disappointment. As they drew nearer, he recognized the man with a start. He hadn’t expected to see him here, but he was really not surprised. Everyone approached Washington sooner or later. This seemed to be the place to be, at least as far as military matters were concerned.

Alexander Hamilton took the hand of each lady in turn and bowed over each, bestowing a gallant kiss. “Alas, but duty calls. Had I but more time to enjoy your delightful company, I would indeed choose to do so, I assure you.”

Both women giggled, pronounced Hamilton a scoundrel in tones which were far from harsh. And finally, with lingering farewells, and last looks, he sent them on their way with promises of future encounters. Once the young ladies were out of sight, he spun about and caught sight of Burr, drawing himself up sharply. Surprise registered on his face, followed by a moment of apprehension, which quickly passed into a broad smile. In the few years since he’d first made his acquaintance, Burr had observed that Hamilton was a man of swiftly changing moods, and sometimes his smiles could be most deceptive. He would have made a fine actor.

“Burr, what a surprise. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Nor I you,” Burr replied. “How fortuitous for both of us. Are you in a hurry, or do you have a moment to renew our acquaintance?”

Burr thought he saw a moment of hesitation in the other man’s mien, in his very step which seemed inclined to continue on in the direction of Richmond Hill. Not that Burr wasn’t heading that way too, but he was cautious when it came to private conversations, which he suspected this might turn out to be. Better safe than sorry was an admonition he took to heart. As well as never do today what you can put off till tomorrow. 

“Of course,” Hamilton said at last, falling into step with Burr in his perambulation about the pond.

“Last time we met was not exactly an occasion for lengthy conversation,” Burr observed. 

Hamilton gave no indication that Burr’s reference to the Battle of Princeton was an unpleasant reminder of the university which had denied him admittance, but from which Burr had graduated at the tender age of sixteen. A feat the competitive Hamilton had been unable to duplicate, or best. For Burr, this was a bittersweet memory, for not only was Princeton his alma mater, but his late father and grandfather, respectively, had been the first and second presidents of the college.

“Indeed,” Hamilton replied. “However, it was a splendid victory, was it not? And I managed to send a personal message to King George.” He looked very pleased with himself at this last statement. Burr knew exactly to what he referred. During the course of the battle, a cannonball fired from the American side had decapitated the portrait of King George II which hung in Nassau Hall. Burr was not surprised that Hamilton claimed credit for the deed, although he’d heard from reliable sources that this was not the case. However, in the interests of amity, he made no comment.

“Is your unit stationed near here?” Burr asked, deftly changing the subject. A mourning dove flew by them, its haunting coo heralding its arrival as it dropped onto the ground several feet from the two men. Burr paused to admire the splendid fellow.   
Hamilton drew a pistol from his side, aimed it at the bird, and pretended to shoot. “Perfect shot,” His voice held a distinct note of triumph. The almost-target ignored its would-be assailant and cooed again. Almost belatedly, Hamilton addressed Burr’s question.

“My unit is here,” he replied. “I’m to be on Washington’s staff.”

Burr thought he spotted a cloud of discontent cross Hamilton’s face, but the moment passed, and sunny skies had returned once more.

“What a coincidence. I’ve been serving on his staff myself.”

“You have?” Hamilton sounded startled at Burr’s words. “I wasn’t aware.”

“Well, to be honest, I’d be surprised if you had,” Burr said. “As it turns out, the appointment is of short duration. I have been moved to Israel Putnam’s command instead.”

Was that envy Burr spied now? For what reason.

“Congratulations,” Hamilton replied coolly. 

Suddenly Burr had an insight into Hamilton’s less than enthusiastic attitude, even if he did not share his dismay. “Thank you,” he said in response to the other man’s good wishes. “And congrats to you on your appointment.”

“To me?” Hamilton seemed taken aback. “Why?” he blurted out without pausing.

“Because you’re being given a great opportunity,” Burr said frankly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to go far.” Burr had a feeling that Hamilton and Washington would get along a lot better than he and Washington had. If he played his cards right, Hamilton might just find himself a member of the general’s inner circle. He could parlay such a position to his advantage.

“By being a secretary? I could have accepted either Knox’s or Greene’s offer had I chosen to take that route.” Hamilton’s normally smooth voice was edged with bitterness. Burr attributed his frankness to the duration of their acquaintanceship. 

“But you didn’t,” Burr said softly, attempting to turn aside Hamilton’s growing wrath. “Fate has other things in store for you, my friend.”

“Fate?” Now Hamilton snorted. “Next you’ll tell me you believe in predestination.”

Burr had to laugh at that. “Would it be surprising if I did? My grandfather was a huge advocate, wasn’t he?” Burr’s maternal grandfather was Jonathan Edwards, who was responsible for the religious revival known as the Great Awakening. His most famous writing had been his sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” and if that wasn’t an advocacy of predestination, Burr didn’t know what was.

Seeing Hamilton’s sour expression, Burr decided to find a more agreeable topic, casting his mind back to their time together in Elizabethtown, as young teenagers.

“And how is Laurens doing? I’m surprised not to see him with you.”

Too late, Burr realized this might just be a sore topic as well, in light of certain matters which he had kept to himself, but which Hamilton was undoubtedly remembering. He was probably wondering if Burr had told anyone, or would tell anyone. As a gentleman, that was something Burr would never do. He wasn’t sure Hamilton was as certain of his sincerity.

“John’s in South Carolina right now, but I expect him to return soon.” He narrowed his eyes at Burr, a look which he couldn’t blame on the sun shining in his eyes as that lay behind him now. 

“Give him my best regards when you see him,” Burr said, trying to ease the sudden tension between them. “He’s a nice young man.”

“Indeed he is,” Hamilton said stiffly. “In fact, he’s been giving me advice on finding a suitable bride.”

Burr’s brows raised, but he said nothing.

“A man in my position needs to be married, and to the right kind of woman,” Hamilton continued. “There are many things to be taken into consideration.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Burr agreed.

“I know you aren’t in the same situation, what with your trust fund, but for some of us—” Hamilton shut his mouth quickly, as if he’d said too much. “Excuse me, I have been rude. I apologize if I have given offense…”

“No, no, not all,” Burr said generously, but he could see that despite his protestations, this conversation was over.

“If you will excuse me, I must report to my commander.” Hamilton bowed woodenly.

“I understand,” Burr said in a soothing tone. Despite outward appearances, he’d not cared for Hamilton’s remark but he wasn’t about to make a fuss about it. That wasn’t his style. He’d let the other man go ahead, put some distance between them, even though they had the same destination. Give the other man a chance to cool off. “I wish you well, Hamilton. It was good to see you.”

“You as well.” Without another word, or a handshake or other sign of friendship, Hamilton pivoted and stalked off, his back ramrod straight.

Burr sighed and glanced over the pond. The dove, who was still in the vicinity, cooed a couple of times, a comforting sound. Hamilton was a difficult man to maintain a friendship with, at least in Burr’s experience. Perhaps that could change in the future.  
In the meantime, it was a nice day, and all things considered, he had a little time on his hands. Might as well stay here for a little bit and carpe diem. He had to enjoy Richmond Hill while he could. God knew when he would be back, if ever.


End file.
